Once upon a Memory
by Emmanuel Park
Summary: [Original: "Beyond the Boundaries"] Daniella doesn't remember being sent to the Victorian Era, all she has is her surrogate father and her silhouette memories. Winning a position in the Buckingham Palace was something she will regret, or appreciate, afterwards. As she learns to cope with them, it won't be long before she will soon find herself in a situation that she cannot escape.
1. How They Met

**It all started with a PM.**

**This story is originally from Stella Mystica, she asked me to continue it for her because of . . . things. She said it's fine for me to change a few things but the plot must remain the same. And so I shall.**

**It might not be the best revision, but I did my best. That's a good thing, right? ****If it turns bad, I'm so sorry in advance! T_T**

***sigh***

**A time travel fanfic . . . never tried that before. Might as well do it for the heck with it. ****Now while I rant why isn't there chapter 100 of Kuroshitsuji yet, please continue on.**

***Edit* Oh, really? The raw is there? Yaay!**

**I do not own Kuroshitsuji.**

**Cool? Cool.**

**Bye.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter I:<strong>

**How They Met**

* * *

><p><em>"I love meeting new people; I think everyone has a story to tell. We should all listen sometimes."<em>

-Kim Smith

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 3, 2014; 9:41 AM<strong>_

_**Hyde Park, London**_

He sighed, smiling wryly at the young lady. A thick British accent evident in his voice. "You again?"

This old–_YOUNG_ man is Augustine Mendez, a stranger.

"Yeah," she says, without looking up at the man. "Me again."

This young lady is Daniella Trivett, another stranger.

With her brother promoted on work, he treated the entire family on a vacation to London. He even planned to move here. For now, she wants to spend the rest of the morning alone. She has her cellphone and extra money so everything is fine. This is not what she had wanted to spend her day off.

Once again, the park is mostly filled with tourists all over the world, busy enjoying the view and taking pictures. This is a famous park after all, what did she expect? This girl, too, is a tourist that prefers to sit in the park bench the entire morning and go to God-knows-where. He felt sorry for the girl so he tried to accompany her for the rest of the morning.

"This place takes me back," he says. "I also hang around here with my friends when I was your age."

She tilted her head up. "That's good to hear." She didn't feel talkative today, listening to his story wouldn't hurt.

As the atmosphere around them somehow lightened, he began. "This was the sight of the Great Exhibition, my daughter and I were lucky enough to get in."

_'The Great Exhibition?'_ Her brows furrowed. Didn't the Great Exhibition took place a long time ago? She couldn't remember exactly when, but she knew for sure that it took place before her parents were born. Nonetheless, she shrugged it off. He continued to tell all sorts of things that she will never understand, yet.

_Yep, I only understood thirty percent of that. Hope he doesn't quiz me on this._

"–how I retired. Are you catching up?"

"Huh? O-Oh yeah. Retired. Engaged. Got it," she stammered. What she said were only random, she better pray that it's right.

"Glad you're listening," he replied. Daniella sighed in relief. "I want to show you around as a token for listening to this ol' man's story." Now she felt guilty. "What didn't you visit yet?" Her mother said it's wrong to talk or go with strangers, but there was something urging her to go. Saying that she will not regret it one bit. Either way, her conscience won't stop her until she agrees to its bidding. She is bound to regret this later.

"I want to see the Clock Tower (Big Ben) first."

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 3, 2014; 10:23 AM<em>**

**_Clock Tower in City of Westminster, London_**

She left out the two famous spots for last on purpose, not that she got lost or anything. Augustine kindly explained the historical details on Big Ben, which she intends to listen attentively from now on.

Daniella stared in awe at how _huge _it was, she didn't regret going with him at all. The rest of the tour has been pleasant, nothing unusual going on so far.

Looking closely, there is a small silhouette at the top of the clock tower, only to disappear when she looked up again.

"I told my life story, what about you?"

Guess it's a fair deal.

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 3, 2014; 12:10 PM<em>**

**_Buckingham Palace in City of Westminster, London_**

"This is the last one you want to check?"

"Yes," she said simply. Visiting hours are closed for the meantime, they are allowed to observe as far as the front gates. Daniella peered her head sideways on the gate railings, thinking that she can get to see Queen Elizabeth II or any official-looking people on the yard. She did find a peculiar pair strolling around the garden, casually chatting without a care in the world.

Before she could get a better look, Augustine tapped her in the shoulder and whispered. "What are you staring out there for? The guards are glarin' at us." She glanced at the garden again, they were gone. Weird.

She told him. "Thought I saw someone there."

"Those guys are too busy going in and out of the Palace, chances of seeing them from here is slim to none."

"Oh," she replied. "Well." She is just seeing things, yeah that's it. She heard a familiar chime from her phone and picked it up. It was her brother calling.

_"WHERE ARE YOU?!" _the voice yelled at the other line, Daniella calmly distanced her ear from the phone screaming bloody murder.

"Relax." Was all she said.

_"HOW CAN I BE IF I CAN'T FIND YOU AT THE PARK?!"_

Daniella reassured her hot-headed brother. "I'm in front of the Buckingham Palace, just chill."

A pause. One second. . . two seconds. . . three. . .

_". . . You could have said something sooner," _Paul muttered. _"The people here are staring at me as if I was wearing a loincloth." _Augustine heard what he said and distanced himself from her, laughing at the corner somewhere.

She slapped her mouth to stop herself from laughing loudly. "T-That's y-your fault f-for yelling."

Paul sighed._ "Are you holding it in?"_

"Who wouldn't?" she admitted. "You could have used other comparisons. The image of you in it is too much."

_"Just stay where you are. I'm picking you up." _The line ended.

When Augustine regained composure, he said. "Isn't he overreacting?" Daniella meekly nodded and buried her phone in her bag.

She stared off on the palace garden, lost in thought. There she saw them again, standing by the large front doors. Both of them were clad in white, she doubted that they are one of the guards or the staff or the government officials. No one wears such an outfit. One of them turned around and smirked, making her gasp. _He saw her! He saw her! They must be real!_

"Hey. Are you alright?" Augustine tried to call her attention, but to no avail. Her gaze were fixated on those two. Why and how are these two so familiar? Or has she gone schizophrenic? No, it can't be. She grabbed her earphones and drowned herself with music. All the while chanting on her mind: _"I did not see them. I did not see them. I did see them. I did **NOT** see them. Lalalalala. . ."_

"I'm going to wait for my brother," she said, one earplug dangling on her shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

"Staying right here. Can't leave you here alone."

"**自身に適しなさい (Suit yourself),**" she muttered, putting back the earplug on her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the two figures standing there. It began to creep her out. Augustine and the guards can't see them, they might be ghosts. _'It's official, I'm insane,' _she thought, chagrined.

"You're Japanese?" Augustine inquired.

"I forgot to tell you. My father is one while my mother is British. This is basically her hometown," Daniella told him.

"Well, that explains on how fluent you are," he answered. "By the way, what are you staring at back there?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?" She quickly nodded. The last thing she wants to happen is to have them suddenly at her back like wandering spirits. This is not The Conjuring so no need to worry. "Daniella." She removed her earphones and accidentally turned to Augustine with an apologetic expression on his eyes. She saw them flash a shade of yellow-green. It was brown earlier. . .

"I–"

Her vision turned black.


	2. Infatuation or Love?

**Thank you to Lydia Knightly and lalalala for reviewing~**

**There has been another plagiarism issue on a fan fiction recently, and it's not funny. Have a little respect for the authors whoever you people are. There are some people out there pouring out their own flesh and blood (that's kinda occult-ish) to come up with something cool and bada** for their story.**

**I have nothing else to say so. . . on to Chapter 2.**

**I'll try to make longer chapters.**

**Logging out,**

_**Emmanuel Park**_

**UPDATE: ****I changed a few things because I forgot that it is actually a typo error D: Sorry for that.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroshitsuji.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter II:<strong>

**Infatuation or Love?**

* * *

><p><em>"If your dreams don't scare you,<em>

_they're not big enough."_

_-Anonymous_

* * *

><p><strong><em>October 18, 1888; 8:05 AM<em>**

**_Buckingham Palace_**

_Breathe in . . . breathe out_. You have to stay calm, Daniella reminded herself. You've gotten this far, there is nothing to be nervous about.

The audience has reduced to private guests like family members and Her Majesty herself. Sure, they brought his entire family while she didn't bring hers. It was better not to tell her father about this little contest she's putting herself into because she knows he is going to make a ruckus.

**[The day before that . . .]**

"You don't _knoow_, Mendez~?" Undertaker teased, earning a glare from the latter. "Your daughter is going to be a servant of the Queen~"

"It's a Secretarial Officer, not a servant," she corrected. "And . . . another thing but I forgot the name." She didn't know where the sudden motivation of becoming an officer came from. She will be fine with the job as long as she won't do anything reckless.

He shrugged. "It is the same; they just had a fancy way of saying it."

"Hold on, hold on," he interrupted, finally getting the grasp of the situation. "If you go in there, I'm not allowing you to have an identity crisis_!_"

"A _what_?" Where did he get that idea? What kind of imagination does her father has?

"Why would they need another officer? And they are all boys, mind you. A young lady such as yourself shouldn't be around with those kind of people." It is another way of implying that they are bastards.

"Don't worry," Daniella said casually, shrugging her shoulders. "I'll probably act too tomboyish they won't recognize that I'm a girl."

Augustine raised his voice. "That is what I am worried about! You are not going, and that's final!"

"Too late, Daniella here only has to pass one more and she's qualified. It will shame her reputation if she does not finish it," Undertaker revealed, grinning at Augustine's bewildered expression. "You don't know again, right?"

"Huh?"

"I knew it," he sighed, still grinning. "She's been doing this for two months and you don't have a single clue. What kind of father are you?" He continued to stab him with every insult for his entertainment. Daniella didn't do anything but watch him as he wallows into his own depression. Undertaker poked him with a fork, making sure that he is still alive.

". . . I'll be fine, right?"

[. . .]

The Queen made a few changes in the contest unlike last year; all participants must wear their respective fencing helmets to hide their identities, only to remove it at the end of the game. It might have helped ease her nerves if . . .

"Come on, brother. You can do it_!_" The cheerful blonde girl, known as Elizabeth Midford, cheered merrily.

"Don't let your guard down, son_!_"

Francis scolded them both. "Hush_!_ Be quiet, now_!_" Daniella could only sweatdrop, their presence made it freaking obvious.

The purpose of keeping the helmets on was gone for the count. It's no longer a surprise that _the_ son of the Head of the Order of the British Empire is her last opponent. She thanked the heavens that they don't know about her . . . yet.

The little blue-eyed boy wondered. "Who do you think is Lord Edward's opponent?"

"It will remain a mystery, for now." The tall butler said. His hair was awkwardly slicked back because Francis said he looked "lecherous". "Who are you betting for, young master?"

"That would be Lord Edward, naturally," he said matter-of-factly.

The man in sunglasses beside the Queen took a step forward and signaled to begin. Daniella gripped on her sword as if it was her life line. As Edward charged towards her, she stood on a defensive stance and hoped for the best.

She wasn't aware of her own actions.

* * *

><p>She stared at Edward, dumbfounded. It felt like it has only been five seconds since it started.<p>

Did she . . . _won_? As in success? Mission accomplished?

As the referee declared her as the winner, she offered her hand and helped him stand up. Her Majesty ordered both of them to remove both of their helmets, to which they followed. Everyone gasped (except the Queen's side, of course) to know that the one who defeated a Midford was a girl. That is some serious discrimination there, she thought. Lady Francis is a girl and defeated her husband hands down.

What Daniella failed to notice is that what Edward experienced is exactly the same experience his father had when he first met his wife, where love at first sight bloomed.

"Thank you for the match, Sir Edward," she bowed and smiled.

He has found his first love.

Alexis exclaimed which made them flinch in surprise. "I am so proud of you, my son!"

Edward flushed in embarrassment. "F-Father!" The boy beside them pinched the bridge of his nose. If anyone asks, he does not know any of these people. The butlers beside the Queen sighed in relief to be not involved there in any kind.

Elizabeth beamed. "Congratulations, Miss . . .?"

"Daniella. You can just call me Daniella."

"Will you visit us from time to time? I'm sure brother will really appreciate it," she says, winking at Edward.

"L-Lizzy . . .!"

"Okay," she smiled. Social Lesson #1:_ Just move on and smile as if nothing happened_, she thought to herself.

"W-What?!"

"It is alright with you, right brother?" she said softly, their parents also gave the same look. It was him against them.

He cleared his throat. "O-Of course it is."

"Yay! I have a new friend and we will get to wear cute clothes and decorate Ciel's mansion together and_—_"

"I do not want to hear the end of it. Sebastian let's go," Ciel muttered. The thought of his mansion covered in pink and cute things made him blench in horror. Why does he have a feeling that it will happen soon?

He bowed. "Understood."

* * *

><p><strong><em>-Just one of my crazy imaginations.-<em>**

"What's this?" Daniella says, picking up several papers scattered on the floor.

"Oh, that's just a yaoi fanfic of Grey and Phipps," Emmanuel (me) said nonchalantly. "You can read it if you want."

"What is it about?"

"Uh . . . things that aren't suitable for children and the pure of heart."

". . ." Her eye twitched as she scanned the paragraphs one by one.

"Who finds this entertaining?" Grey said in disgust.

"The fans."

She merely stared at Grey with cold, dead eyes. ". . . I will never look at you the same way ever again."

"We would never, ever do such things written there_!_" Grey reasoned, then glared daggers at Emmanuel. "And for the record, I do not find cross dressing as some kind of sexual pleasure!"

Phipps said nothing and backed away.

"Not you too!" he barked.

"Sorry for the randomness," she laughed nervously. "That's it for now_!_ Bye~"

Grey unsheathes his rapier, smirking. "Emmanuel, come here_!_ I am not going to hurt you, just going to beat you senseless!"

A comedic chase music plays. "That doesn't make any sense, you maniac_!_" Emmanuel yelled back, running for her dear life and Phipps tries to calm Grey down.

On the other hand, Daniella goes to the cemetery to mourn on her forever gone innocence.

**~END~**

**Inspired by: Ask a Host by _fangirlqueen_**


	3. A Tough Nut to Crack

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroshitsuji and never will.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter III:<strong>

**A Tough Nut to Crack**

* * *

><p>The awarding ceremony will be held tonight, tardiness is not an option, as what Charles Phipps said to her a while ago. "Kind of him to leave a note if I ever forget," she muttered, staring at the piece of paper on her hands. The bedroom is four times as large as hers at home and the whole place is a maze.<p>

Since it isn't evening yet, she can:

1. Look around the Palace.

2. Go outside.

3. Stay.

4. Call her father, just to say hi.

5. Talk to the two Charles or John . . . to say hi?

Yeah, the fourth one is way better, she thought. "Now where do rich people keep their telephones in here?"

A knock came on the door. "Excuse me, Lady Daniella. Is everything alright?"

She answered. "Oh, yes everything is fine."

The maid entered with a meek smile. "My name is Karen and I am assigned to make sure that you are comfortable here and finish tasks such as uniform fitting, introducing you to your co-workers, and keeping your sanity and life in check. Do you have any questions, my lady?" Karen said without skipping a beat, a smile still evident on her face. Daniella was too stunned to even respond. "Am I going too fast? I apologize; it is a force of habit."

"Um . . . don't worry. I understood everything," she said and paused. "What do you mean by keeping my sanity and life in check?"

"Take it as a welcome present from me," she said hesitatingly. "I have been working here for fifteen years and your . . . co-worker has a rather unique personality that makes him stand out from them. And with your outstanding performance earlier, I think that caught his attention and probably . . ."

"Probably . . .?" she trailed off.

She sighed in exasperation. "How do I say it without any misunderstanding?"

"Whatever he is, I'm not afraid of him. And I would rather find out for myself," she stated. Karen blinked; she is different from the many people she met before her. Way too carefree and trustworthy. _Since I'm already used to 'unique' people_, Daniella silently added.

"If that is your wish, Lady Daniella."

"Oh, just call me Daniella. I think I'll never get used to being called like that." Daniella stood up and walked past her, looking left and right at the long hallways. She grinned broadly. "Where do you keep your telephones, by the way?"

Very different indeed.

"You can use the telephone after the ceremony with no interference," she said, handing a neatly folded uniform.

* * *

><p>"What do you think?" Karen inquired. "Too big? Too small?"<p>

"Just right," she says. "How did you get my size?"

"Remember the health examination?"

"Oh."

**[Later on . . .]**

"No."

"It won't be that—"

"_No,_" Karen argued. "I will not cut your hair."

Daniella requested her to make her hair shorter, she agreed, at first. When Karen asked how short, she pointed to her neck, she would do anything but that.

She pouted. "Then I'll—"

"I'll braid it like this," Karen shushed her and expertly grabbed a brush, tying her hair into a bun and a part of it braided. "See? Ain't it far better than your suggestion?"

"I guess it's fine, but it looks bothersome to do," she said, brushing off her bangs.

"If that keeps you from cutting it, then I'll gladly do it every day," Karen grinned broadly, pulling her from her seat. "We have an hour left before it starts. Do you want to go ahead?"

She pondered about it for a moment and said that she'll stay for a little while longer. Karen nodded and left the room to see if the others need an extra hand in the decorations. She took out a random old book collecting dust on her desk and flipped the pages until a story caught her eye.

_**Our Mutual Friend** by Charles Dickens_

* * *

><p><em>"A person's true personality is hidden behind the <strong>eyes <strong>. . . you have to look **deeper** into them to find out who they **really are**."_

-Kamu

* * *

><p>Daniella smiled at her luck. She liked Charles' stories.<p>

_Chapter 1_

_ON THE LOOK OUT_

_In these times of ours, though concerning the exact year there is no need to be precise, a boat of dirty and disreputable appearance, with two figures in it, floated on the Thames, between Southwark bridge which is of iron, and London Bridge which is of stone, as an autumn evening was closing in._

_The figures in this boat were those of a strong man with ragged grizzled hair and a sun-browned face, and a dark girl of nineteen or twenty, sufficiently_—

A knock. "Hey, get a move on. The ceremony is about to start," the shorter Charles called. From the way he is saying it, she imagined a ritual, and she is the live sacrifice. She clicked her tongue and placed the book on the desk, walking towards the exit, only to run back at the desk and quickly reading whatever few sentences she could manage. It is hard to pry your eyes away from a good novel.

_— sufficiently like him to be recognizable as his daughter. The girl rowed, pulling a pair of sculls very easily; the man, with the rudder-lines slack in his hands, and his hands loose in_—

"Are you going to come out or do I have to drag you there myself?" he yelled threateningly, promising pain and torture if she doesn't comply.

"I'm coming! Sheeesh," she yelled back and opened the door. Are all rich people in their PMS?

He glowered down at her. "Took you long enough."

Daniella closed her eyes and gave him her best smile, hiding her intents of lashing out on him. "Just fixed my hair t'is all." 'Men . . .' she thought. 'Look at that smile of his, as if it's real. No different from mine, though.'

Charles resisted the urge to scowl. 'Women . . .' he thought. 'She's no different from the others after all. What a waste of expectations.'

'Hurry up already! Why must be the hallways so long?' she mentally yelled. The walk was quiet and awkward, and she could tell that he wasn't in a good mood for small talk. She then remembered what Undertaker said to her.

"If there is something I learned after being with the Phantomhive's for generations, Daniella dearest, is that nobles set up their own respective barriers," Undertaker says, biting a piece of his biscuit.

"Barriers?"

He continued. "To hide their weaknesses, of course. If their enemy sees even a single flaw, they'll use it against 'em. If you want to become the Queen's servant—"

"Officer," Daniella corrected.

He waved his hand. "Whatever you call it, you've gotta learn to get through their barriers one at a time, or it is natural for them to be like that. Not everyone is a . . . rich bastard as you would call them, even if they are one~"

_'Sounds like_ _this guy has a lot.' _Daniella wondered, glancing at Charles. She stared at his choppy and uneven silver hair and long eyelashes. He carries a confident smirk on his face and is rather good looking, according to anyone's point of view. Screw that.

Charles smirked, catching her red-handed. "What are you staring at for?"

She smirked. "What's wrong? Afraid that you'll get stoned?"

"As if," he spat. "Why would I be afraid of _you_?"

"You'll see, m'dear," she says. "And there's no need to fight. Let's be on each other's good side, no?"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat." She bit her lower lip. As much as she wanted to ask what's wrong, she has no right to snoop. "All you have to do is walk down the aisle and focus straight ahead or keep eye contact on Her Majesty to keep you from getting nervous. Do not look at the guests, you'll get stoned."

She stifled a laugh. "I see, like a bride."

"Don't walk like one," he said sternly. He decided not to stay moody for long, he didn't want to leave a horrible impression.

Unknown to him, he already did.

"Right, right." Glad he isn't as irritated as before.

Silence. She stand corrected.

"So . . ." She scratched the back of her neck. Man, this was awkward. ". . . Yeah."

He raised a brow at her and turned his attention at the double doors. "Here we are. I'll go ahead and wait for the doors to open." Her legs turned jello and breathed faster than usual, she tried her best to hide it, but nothing escapes Charles' shrewd nature. He smirked. "Nervous?"

She gave a twitching small smile and shook her head. "No . . . not at all." He mouthed a 'really now?'. "Alright, maybe a little." Charles folded his arms across his chest. She admitted defeat. "Yes, I am."

"What's the point of lying if it's so plain obvious?" She narrowed her eyes. "Stay calm and think that it will be over soon."

Daniella breathed deeply. "Okay . . . thanks for the tip." He said nothing and went ahead.

'God, I looked like an idiot a minute ago,' she thought, chagrined. 'When did I care what others think of me? Snap out of it, Daniella!' She wanted him to stay and ask to accompany her instead, anyone would do as long as she's not walking alone with pairs of eyes staring at her as if she came from a different planet.

As the doors opened, she gulped and kept repeating on her head: _'Just a little longer. It will be all over soon.'_

* * *

><p><em>"Today I close the door to my past . . .<em>

_Open the door to the future,_

_take a deep breath and _

_step on through the start the_

_next chapter in my life . . . ._

-Anonymous

* * *

><p><strong>If you're interested, you can read 'Our Mutual Friend' by Charles Dickens, click the link on my profile and read in PDF since you can't click anything in here, I think. :)<strong>

**Please R&R. A review will let me know if it is going smoothly or tell me on which I should improve.**

**Thank you so much and have a big, humungous cookie. :D**


	4. Let's Play

**I am on fangirling mode and no one can stop me! *evil laugh* Mwahahahahaha!**

**There is a Kuroshitsuji x Youme cafe at Hong Kong. Posters of Book of Circus and Murder are fucking everywhere and merchandise (pendant of each character and stuff, shit they have one for each of the Double Charles, damn I curse a lot when I fangirl). They even have Sebastian's demonic stiletto heels, for damn sake!**

**Let us make a goal to go to Hong Kong and drink Darjeeling tea like a boss while a life-sized Sebastian board stares. *daydreaming***

**DISCLAIMER:** **If I owned Kuroshitsuji, I would resurrect Madam Red and the Noah Ark Troupe. Ah, but alas, such thing will remain a fantasy and the dead will never come back.**

**I apologize for any kind of error or failure that might be seen in this chapter. I have zero confidence on these kind of stuff.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter IV:<span>**

**Let's Play**

* * *

><p>The ceremony is greeted with cold peak of an autumn evening. The doors slowly opened, revealing the new female officer. Grey smirked, amused to see she calmed down after hearing such advice. As Daniella walked down the red carpet, (he takes it back on what he said earlier) her face as stiff as a cardboard, soft murmurs then surrounded the room.<p>

"Daniella Trivett, to the front," called Phipps, the officer who shared the same position as his partner.

"Who is that woman?" someone whispered.

"That woman defeated a _Midford_?"

"She must be a commoner." Another added.

"Disgraceful."

Daniella continued to stare at either him, Phipps, John, or the Queen with a blank look on her face. If he were to guess, it had a mental note that says:

**Expectation:**

'Please give me permission to punch the living daylights out of them and I will forever be in your debt.'

**Reality:**

'I really want to read that novel, these people are annoying. Is there any food after this? I want to lie down in my new bed. I wonder what father is doing. I am still nervous, may I add. Look at how I keep glancing at them left and right. Bla bla bla et cetera, et cetera . . . .'

The moment she is finally in front of Her Majesty, she gave her a soft smile which made her relax. Daniella knelt down as the Queen stood up and said the poetic vow, lowering the tip of the sword that touched both of her shoulders. She put the sword back into its sheathe and held it out horizontally to her hands. That was her cue to stand up and face the audience.

She smiled warmly at the woman and declared to the audience. "We warmly welcome you Daniella Trivett, the Private Secretarial Officer and Royal Guardian of London."

[ . . . ]

The Queen retired for the night and the party went as per usual and Daniella decided to strike a conversation with Edward to let out some stress. "Elizabeth has a fiancée?! Isn't she too young?" she gawked. She couldn't believe that a sweet, innocent is arranged

"At first I was worried, then I thought mother and father has a good eye so I let it slide." She could tell that he is trying his best not to let all of his anger show. "Of all people, it has to be that Phantomhive brat!"

"Come on. Give the guy a chance that he's worth it," she suggested.

"If anything happens to her, I will never forgive him!"

"You really care for her, don't you?" she said, a sheepish smile on her lips, bringing the subject back to his sister since he seems to be at ease whenever she is mentioned. His cheeks suddenly turned red. "She's lucky for having a sweet brother. I've got to admit, I'm kind of jealous myself."

"D-Don't be," he stuttered, averting his gaze.

I wish I have a brother like Edward, or a sister like Elizabeth, she thought. It really is different from being an only child, and less lonely. She couldn't help but feel attached to him, a familiar sense of warmth and nostalgia wrapped around him. She doesn't know why, but she didn't complain.

And the night goes on.

* * *

><p><em>"A sibling may be the keeper to one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self."<em>

—Marian Sandmaier

* * *

><p>She sighed in relief and sat on the chair. The party is finally over and said her goodbyes to Edward and the guests. The long wave of glares and uneasy glares finally ended as they went back to their own business of who-knows-what. If looks could kill, she will be surely turned to ashes long ago.<p>

'Then they'll meet my fist,' a female voice on her head answered. Her brows furrowed, not recognizing that voice. She shook her head to brush it off, the anxiety from earlier is probably sinking in.

The voice didn't stop. 'You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, as simple as that.'

She attempted to talk to whoever this is. 'What are you talking about?'

_'Come back . . .'_

Her jaw dropped. The voice choked a sob and was desperately pleading and wallowing in sorrow.

_'Where are you?'_

She was speechless, she almost felt like crying. She mentally scolded herself and told herself to shut the bloody hell up.

_'I—'_

"Miss Daniella?"

She smiled at the one behind her, gladly interrupting the voice. "Good evening, Phipps."

"To you as well." Thank goodness she got the name right. "Are you alright? You seem pale."

"I, uh, nothing. Ha ha ha," she laughed nervously. "It seems that I'm not much of a night person, 'ya know."

He nodded. "I see, but it is best for you to get used to it. I assume you know that much?"

"Uh-huh," she said, paying half attention. "I hear you. Noted. Got it."

He eyed her questioningly but shrugged it off. "That's good. Now where is that . . .?"

On cue, Charles Grey came to them with a radiant smile. Daniella jokingly narrowed her eyes as if she is getting blinded, it's a shame she didn't bring her father's sunglasses for the occasion. He said in an almost mocking manner. "You call~?"

If it was in Phipps' character, he would have told him to stop using that irritating tone. But since it isn't, he didn't say anything. "Show her back to her room. I have matters to attend to." Before he left, he turned back. "Don't try anything."

He smirked. "I won't~"

". . . That's what I'm worried about."

* * *

><p>By the time she realized that they were walking in circles, they are lost. Why?! Why now? Thought the tired girl. Of course, it had to be evening. The perfect time to be feeling luxurious in her bed. That prick. "Are we lost?"<p>

He shrugged without a single care, like he ever did in the first place. "Who knows?"

"We're lost, aren't we?" she said, not hiding the irritation in her voice.

"Now you're just rephrasing it."

She sighed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I know this place more than you do, so shut up for once." She rolled her eyes and stayed silent. "There is actually something I want to show you." They stopped at a dead end of the hallway. She noticed a different air on his smirk, and it wasn't good.

"This is a nice view of the . . . wall. Very stylish. Elegant. Big. Thanks for showing that nice wall," she said, ever so slowly moving further. "Hey, I have a better idea. You can go back to your room and not bother me, while I will just ask someone to show me where's mine." Before she could let her intuition take over and make a break for it, the cold, metal blade of his rapier rested against her neck. I don't have a death wish for Christ's sake! She yelled in her thoughts.

As exactly as planned, he thought. His smirk widened, the faint blue moonlight reflecting from the large glass window adorning his face. "Let's play."


	5. Blonde and Blue Eyes

**Emmanuel: Oh crap, 'tis longer than expected, so enjoy this new record~! Yaay!**

**Daniella: Can I see?**

**Emmanuel: *hides the copy of the chapter* Uhh, you're better off not knowing. It's horrible and all. I apologize in advance to the readers out there for that.**

**Daniella: . . . I have a bad feeling about this.**

**Emmanuel: It's your reputation and impression that'll be affected, not that dire. I do not own Kuroshitsuji! R&R! Enjoy~**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter V:<span>**

**Blonde and Blue Eyes**

* * *

><p>"Play . . .?" She knew what kind of play he is implying, and that worried her. She is panicking in the inside and coming up ways to let him off guard and make her getaway. I'm too exhausted to entertain his games. Come on, think! She thought.<p>

"Are you afraid that you'll lose?" he taunted.

A light bulb appeared above her head. I can do this, she thought. What's the worst that could happen? She pushed the blade away and impassively made eye contact. The girl casually hid her right hand and clenched her fist to hide any hints of lying.

She is and never will become a good actress, but in a desperate situation she has to put up her best act. All she had to do is to decline in her most professional and persuasive manner. "All right then, I'll play."

She had to mess it up. _I hate myself_, she thought, tempted to slam her head on the wall in shame. She thought she was terrible at this, but not _that _bad.

His smirk grew even wider, if possible._ I swear this guy is a sadist _and_ a masochis_t, thought the unlucky girl. "Glad you're seeing things my way." _Take a hint and let me sleep_, she countered. "I've noticed you're left-handed as well. Aren't we a match made in heaven~?" he teased.

"I'll go to heaven and complain on why we are connected in a disturbing way," she says, clutching her stomach and acted as if she is about to vomit. Charles lunged towards her and she luckily dodged it in time. "The heck is wrong with you?_!_ That's not fair_!_"

"Nothing's fair in love and war. But in our case, its war." he answered. "Though I can send you to heaven right now, if you want~"

"How poetic of you~" she said sarcastically, mimicking his tone and expertly threw a knife that was hidden under her sleeves, missing his face by an inch. _Damn it, I missed_, she thought, chagrined. _And I'm never mimicking him again. _Charles mouthed a compliment in awe, genuinely impressed.

_Almost._

"_Woow~!_ You literally have something up your sleeve. But . . ." he smirked in delight, a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. Her discovered ability was short-lived. It was too late to make a move. "I'm stronger than you."

A large figure faced the young Earl, swiftly blocking his attack. It only took them a fraction of a second to recognize who it is.

"Phipps?_!_" They both exclaimed in unison, and glared at each other.

* * *

><p><em>"Cecilia, you're breaking my heart<em>

_You're shaking my confidence daily_

_Put your hands up,_

_You're surrounded_

_The whole love thing_

_I clowned it_

_Then who's the joker?_

_I guess I'm it_

_'Cause I let it right go when I fou—"_

"Who do you think this _'Cecilia' _you are pertaining to, hmm~?" Undertaker interrupted with a hum, a dead silence followed after his question. Augustine glared coldly; he didn't find the joke to be funny at all. The silver-haired man pouted, raising his hands in defeat. "I was kidding, relax. May I ask where did you get that song and what is that wire dangling on your pocket?"

His dark mood vanished in a blink of an eye and gladly explained. How did I end up being friends with him again? Undertaker wondered. "This wire-thingy are called earphones. Isn't the music from Daniella's time amazing? It was so catchy I couldn't get it out of my mind."

"Another note, I interrupted you because your voice sounds like a screaming banshee it's disturbing the guests," Undertaker said bluntly, shattering the latter's pride. "You're a good man Augustine, however I do not want that part of you to be rubbed off on her, it makes me cry thinking about it."

He scoffed. "You're just jealous because I discovered something amazing."

"You're invading her personal privacy," he pointed out. "And stealing."

"I'm sure my daughter wouldn't mind me borrowing it whether I asked her permission or not," Augustine argued. He turned the music off and hid the earphones in his pockets.

Undertaker crossed his legs, his voice now stern. "How long are you going to keep this up, Augustine? Time is ticking and it won't be long before your—"

"—I know," he said blankly, staring at the wooden coffin displayed at the window. "This is why I didn't want her to join that stupid job, and you're an idiot for supporting her decision."

"Isn't it the faster way?" he said, his signature grin returning. "She's going to find out sooner and oops, I said too much."

"I don't think that's a good idea." He turned around and made his way to the door, decided on visiting his daughter. "What are you planning, Undertaker?"

"Hehe~! Trust me, uncle knows what's best for her~" he chuckled. "Live a little, Augustine. It won't hurt to break a few laws here and there."

"What's best for her, huh? It won't be long before she finds out," Augustine frowned. "We don't probably have the right to be called her 'family'."

He agreed. "You know what they say, 'enjoy it while it lasts.'" Then he left.

* * *

><p><em>"There are two kinds of secrets:<em>

_Those we hide from others, and_

_Those we hide from ourselves."_

-Anonymous

* * *

><p>Phipps audibly sighed and withdrew his sword. "Don't you take a hint, Grey?" Finally someone relates with me, she thought, mentally smirking. She thanked her luck and can go to sleep without any concussions.<p>

"I apologize in his behalf—"

"Hey_!_ I—"

He ignored him. "—for being disrespectful and inconvenient."

"'Tis alright," she said kindly. "Besides, it's not your fault if he's—" _an arrogant, sadomasochistic bastard. _She restrained herself from insulting, even if he deserved it. "—being rude."

"I am not being rude," he reasoned. "It was a welcome greeting in my own way."

"Last time I checked, people greet with a 'hello' or a handshake, not their weapons," she spat.

"Last time I checked, people respect others older than them," he scoffed.

She smirked. "Oh? So you admit that you're an elderly~?"

He fumed. "Why you little piece of—_!_" Phipps didn't let him finish his sentence and grabbed him by the collar, leaving her behind.

"Wait_!_ How do I go back?_!_" she asked to no one in particular.

**[One eternity later . . .]**

"_Finally!_" she praised to the ceiling, jumping on her bed in glee and closed her eyes with a smile on her face. "I'll never leave your side again, bed. I'll read the book tomorrow." As she finished changing to her nightgown, an image of Grey popped into her mind, her smile turning bitter. I'll get back at that bastard someday, she thought. Or maybe tomorrow, yeah that's better.

"Hey," said a voice. She opened her eyes to see her father. She remained lying down on her bed and moved back for him to sit down.

"Hey," she said back, happy to see him. "How did you get here?" He pointed at the open window with his thumb. "Oh."

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Great."

"That all?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Anything I should know?"

She paused for a few seconds, deciding to whether to tell him or not. "Nope."

He raised a brow. "Are you sure? What's that sick smile I saw before?"

"It's not that serious," she said nonchalantly, sitting up.

"Really now?"

"I'm planning on pulling a prank on him."

"To whom?" he inquired. "And a _HE_?_!_"

"Don't overreact, and it's a secret," she said, placing her index finger against her lips. "I'll be fine dad, really. I'm just going to emotionally scar him for the rest of his life and let him live, killing him socially and his ego."

"Daniella . . ." he warned.

"I was kidding. I'd never do any of that, cross my heart," she answered, raising her right hand and making an 'X' sign on her chest.

"Remind me not to ever leave you alone with him again. He's a bad influence," he sighed. Both of you are, don't spare yourself, she thought. "I suppose you are old enough to make your own decisions. Don't be rash, or hot-headed, or—"

"I know," she interrupted, not letting him list down her negative traits and it's a long one, may I add.

"All right, I trust you. Good night, dear," he said softly, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong><em>October 19, 1888; 7:15 AM<em>**

**_Buckingham Palace_**

"Good morning, my lady." Daniella hoped it was Karen; instead she was greeted by a maid with blonde hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. She was already done changing. "You woke up early, today."

"The early bird gets the worm," she answered, fixing the sheets of the bed.

She giggled. "True."

_Blonde hair and blue eyes . . ._

She told. "Then I shall guide you to the main hall."

"Lead away, madamoiselle."

_I've seen it before, but where? Why should I even care?_

Servants went to and fro in every hall, most of them too busy to recognize each other. Daniella thought of a plan to take revenge on he-who-should-not-be-named, and this woman is the key. She dismissed her previous thought and asked. "May I ask a question?"

She smiled. "Certainly, my lady. What would it be?"

"What's your name?"

"Fatima, my lady," she answered.

"I see. It's nice to meet you," she smiled politely. "How long have you been working here?"

She pondered for a minute and answered. "I can't remember exactly when, probably seven years or so?"

A small smirk crawled into her lips. "Can you tell me about them?"

"Them? You mean those three men? I do not know that much but I'll base it on my observation," she says, turning to look at her. "Who would you like to start first?"

She shrugged. "Anyone. We have enough time for talk."

"I guess I'll start with John," she began. "Truth be told, I don't see him that often. All I can say that he is impassive and keeps a straight face whilst obediently follows the Queen's orders. One thing is for sure that those three get along pretty well. I wouldn't ride his horse if I were you."

"Horse?" Daniella tilted her head.

Fatima waved it off. "It's not a major issue. I bet he won't even let you ride it." She nodded in understanding, taking a mental note of it. "Next is those partners-in-crime, or so I'd call them occasionally. Charles Phipps is stoic, a gentleman, and acts older than his age whilst Grey is his polar opposite."

"I can see where you're going," she commented. "Not to be offensive, but he's already a pain in the arse."

"I cannot deny that," she laughed, strands of her hair covering half of her face. "Despite being a pain in the . . . neck, he is mature and responsible when necessary. I got to admit his cheerfulness kind of contagious. I find it adorable." Daniella caught the small smile on her face.

"You like him, don't you?" she said bluntly, shocking the girl. It was obvious by the way she described him, she mentally sighed, she can't ask any further if she has feelings for him. I'll ask Karen later, she thought.

Her cheeks turned red and stammered. "N-N-No, not at all! Not at all! I-I can-n-not have any romantic f-f-feelings—"

Daniella grabbed her by the shoulders. "Calm down, Fatima. You look like you're going to have a fuse."

"C-Calm, I-I'm calm."

"Good." Daniella released her grip and her cheeks slowly returned to her usual color. "It's natural to like someone, there's nothing wrong about it." Instead of getting information for my plan, I ended up giving love advice, she thought.

"That's not what I'm worried about," she muttered, twiddling her thumbs. "He'll never notice someone like me."

_I feel like I'm in one of those cheesy romantic novels I found at father's junk,_ she thought. _There's too much drama and it's still early in the morning_. "It won't hurt to try telling him, or you might regret not giving it a shot."

"That's not it_!_" Fatima snapped, then her eyes widened that she just yelled at her. "I-I'm so sorry I . . . it's hard to explain." She awkwardly patted her head in comfort and it surprisingly worked. "I know from the very start he won't return my feelings, however . . ." She glanced at her and smiled.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's nothing," she shook her head, returning to her usual self. They stopped at the staircase to the main hall. "Do you have anything else to ask?"

_Worth a shot to ask, _she thought. "Is he afraid of anything?"


	6. Under Construction

**First of all . . .**

**I'M SO SORRY ; _;**

**I got lots of stuff to do at school and finally got enough time to spare (It takes years to master the art of time management). I'm trying to make it longer, so I hope this covers the tardiness.**

**_A little heads-up: The original plot of this story is a mix-up of anime and manga._**

**Last but not the least, thank you to all who reviewed, special thanks to: Lydia Knightly, Stellar Nymph, lalalala, Ilovemyself, lynna, scorpio1029, and to all who favorite/followed. Thank you also to the readers out there who gave time to read this *hands out virtual cookies; bows 90 degrees*.**

**I still need room for improvement, so it helps a lot.**

**As apology, please enjoy this cake that I stole from Phipps. But don't tell him that I stole the cake. *munch munch***

**Logging out,**

**_Emmanuel Park_**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own Kuroshitsuji, the characters, or the plot. The story originally belonged to Stella Mystica, so it's not mine, this is only a revision. However, I do own the other OCs.**

**UPDATE: Few grammatical errors changed. Kuroshitsuji: Book of Murder (part 1) is out! His voice is so . . . yeeah. I think they didn't put the part where his *SPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERS* face his half-shadowed as he tells how everyone will be 'gagged' and all that. Aww. Correct me if I'm wrong, though.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter VI:<span>**

**Under Construction**

* * *

><p>He adjusted his sunglasses before entering the kitchen, preparing tea as requested by Her Majesty. Ever since she gave most of the cases to Earl Phantomhive, they haven't done anything serious for the past few weeks. He opened the kitchen and automatically opened the large cabinet to get the tea set.<p>

Instead of a tea set, he found something—_someone_ keeping themselves occupied at the cramped space while happily munching on a sweet.

They both locked eyes in shock, or in John's case, staring blankly. People do not normally live in cabinets. How would you react if you found someone eating in a cabinet and act as if it's a normal occurrence?

. . .

Exactly.

She greeted. "Hi."

He spoke. "May I ask what are you doing there, Lady Daniella? The cupboard cannot support you, and that is rather unladylike."

"Sorry," she apologized, chuckling nervously. Her heart still beating fast from John opening the door, for a minute she thought it was Gr—Sheep. "But don't tell the sheep that I passed through here."

"Sheep?" he queried. "Ah, you mean Grey?"

"Aren't you smart? You deserve a cookie," she grinned, ruffling the aide's hair playfully. Getting out of the cupboard, she placed an index finger against her lips, winking. "Seriously though, don't tell him. We're playing hide-and-seek and I have to hide."

John raised a curious brow. "Aren't the two of you too old to be playing children games?"

She shuddered at the memory of the deal they made, regretting why she agreed in the first place. "When the consequences aren't so simple and childish, it's not a child's game. It's a matter of life and death."

"You're exaggerating."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"_I am not_."

"Yes, you are."

"I would love to stay and argue, but you have tea to do and I have to hide for my dear life. See you!" she waved, leaving a trail of dust as she sprinted out of the kitchen.

"Bye," he muttered. "Ah, the tea."

* * *

><p><strong>[Hours later . . .]<strong>

"What are you doing?" Karen narrowed her eyes at the officer hiding under the clothed table.

"Hiding."

She pressed on. "Hiding from what?"

"From a sheep."

"There are no such animals in the Palace."

"You know who I am talking about," she groans.

Karen let out a chuckle, kneeling down to her level. "Did you provoke him? Or the other way around?"

"Neither," she answers. "It's a game of hide-and-seek."

"Are the both of you two-years old?"

"We were bored," she said grimly, raising her hands up in defense. "and I regret the moment I suggested that."

"Bored, huh?" she mused.

". . . the bloody hell are you implying?" she glared.

"Nothing." Someone remind Daniella to stay on her good side. "Mind telling me what happened?"

She reluctantly nodded and spoke. "It's . . ."

[ . . . ]

* * *

><p><em>It is like any other day . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Daily routine was done and the rest left to attend their respective duties. Phipps went to the Yard; John came to attend Her Majesty's bidding, and the other unnamed butler investigating a potential resort area. When she asked Phipps what they usually do, he said that most of the cases are handled by the Queen's Watchdog, lessening the work load. There is nothing she could do, for now. She went back to her and read her unfinished book.<p>

_"The girl rowed, pulling a pair of sculls very easily; the man, with the rudder-lines slack in his hands, and his hands loose in his waistband, kept an eager look out. He had no net, hook, or line, and he could not be a fisherman; his boat had no cushion for a sitter, no paint, no inscription, no appliance beyond a rusty boathook and a coil of rope, and he could not be a waterman; his boat was too crazy and too small to take in cargo for delivery, and he could not be a lighterman or river-carrier; there was no clue to what he looked for, but he looked for something, with a most intent and searching gaze_—

"Daaanieellaa . . .!" whined the childish, annoying, arrogant Earl, poking her cheek every minute. He was bored, after all, and it was _her _fault for leaving him bored. She continued to ignore him, much to her annoyance, wanting to strangle the life out of—_excuse me_. Why, oh why they didn't assign Grey or her to do anything? Any task that involves away from him is accepted with open arms. But alas, life is a witch.

More importantly, what and why the bloody hell is he lounging around in her room, of all places?! Find someone else to bother!

_—The tide, which had turned an hour before, was running down, and his eyes watched every little race and eddy in its broad sweep, as the boat made slight head-way against it, or drove stern foremost before it, according as he directed his daughter by a movement of his head. She watched his face as earnestly as he watched the river. But—"_

"Hey."

No answer.

"Are you ignoring me?" No, she isn't. She is actually listening by not looking at you and praying that you would magically disappear. "Give me one second and look at me." She turned her head to meet his gaze and quickly went back to her book. ". . . That did not last a second."

She sighed heavily. This man is going to be the death of her.

_— its sodden state, this boat and the two figures in it obviously were doing something that they often did, and were seeking what they often sought. Half savage as the man showed, with no covering on his matted head, with his brown arms bare to between the elbow and the shoulder, with the loose knot of a looser kerchief lying low on his bare breast in a wilderness of beard and whisker, with such dress as he wore seeming to be made out of the mud that begrimed his boat, still there was a business-like usage in his steady gaze . . ."_

He observed her eyes, moving to and fro in each sentence. Grey couldn't help but find it amusing that he had to push her buttons a little further. "Did you know you look so cute when you're serious?" he cooed, flirting his way in. Her focus still remained on the page.

She took note that the book is hardbound.

_". . . So with every little action of the girl, with every turn of her wrist, perhaps most of all with her look of dread or horror; they were things of usage._

_'Keep her out, Lizzie. Tide runs strong here. Keep her well afore the sweep of it.' Trusting to the girl's skill and making no use of the rudder, he eyed the coming tide with an absorbed attention—"_

"Let's play, let's play~" he sang. He _is _trying to get on her nerves.

A vein mark throbbed on her forehead, she sneered. "Don't you have anything important to do?"

"Hmm . . ." he pondered seriously (?), crossing his arms against his chest and grinned. "Not really~"

She rolled her eyes, muttering. "Idiot . . ."

"Did you say something?" he grinned, a smile that is far from innocent.

"Nothing, dear Earl~" she grinned slyly, mimicking his tone; maybe it'll distract him for a good few minutes.

_—So the girl eyed him. But, it happened now, that a slant of light from the setting sun glanced into the bottom of the boat, and, touching a rotten stain there which bore some resemblance to the outline of a muffled human form, coloured it as though with diluted blood._

_This caught the girl's eye, and she shivered. 'What ails you?' said the man, immediately aware of it, though so intent on the advancing waters; 'I see nothing afloat.'_

_The red light was gone, the shudder was gone, and his gaze, which had come back to the boat for a moment, travelled away again. Wheresoever the strong tide met with an impediment, his gaze paused for an instant . . ."_

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy—!"

She slammed the book shut. "I've decided."

He raised a brow, slightly surprised at her statement. "What?"

She turned to him, a devious smirk on her lips. "From now on, I'm calling you Sheep."

"What!?" he yelled. "Do I look an animal to you?"

"Yes, you do," she replied bluntly. "Or maybe Basashi **(1)**, but I think Sheep **(2)** suits you best."

"What's a Ba-sa-shi?" She sighed dreamily, thinking about the latter.

Dramatic pause.

"Why?"

She blinked. "Eh?"

"Why a sheep, or a Ba-sa-shi? And where did you get that idea?"

"It was the first thing that popped on my mind," she shrugged.

"Weirdo," he grumbled.

"Says the idiot," she deadpanned, he ignored her. She cleared her throat, standing up to leave her seat. "You can leave, Sheep. I'm going to meet someone."

"Who?" he queried, following her pace.

"Someone called none of your business," she stated bluntly, he frowned. She didn't want to be harsh to him, but he was getting on her nerves. If that was his intention, he wins.

"Why do you have to be so cold to me, dear~?" he grinned mischievously, putting a hand to his chest in fake hurt.

Her mouth twitched. "Only my uncle can call me that."

"But you called me that a while ago!"

"I said no such thing."

"Daniella~!" he called out childishly.

"Your version of 'play' or hide-and-seek?" She wished she didn't say the first one.

"Hm . . . hide and seek will do." She mentally sighed in relief. "But if you lose, you have no choice but to play with me~" Crap. There's always a catch, she thought.

"All right, if I win, you'll do whatever I say and continue to call you Sheep, no complaints," she smirked. "The field is the entire Buckingham Palace; you are not allowed to go beyond that point. Let's settle for four hours." She stretched out her hand and her rock-paper-scissors stance ready. He stared at her as if she grew three heads. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Rock-paper-scissors, duh," she said matter-of-factly.

He stared at her stance curiously. "What's that?"

"You don't know rock-paper-scissors? **(3)**" she gasped dramatically. "Do you even have a childhood?" Though, it's strange that he doesn't know. _Dad and I play it all the time when I was young,_ she wondered. _Maybe it's a commoner's game . . . that can be it. He could be that kind of rich kids that their parents shutting them out from the world and I'll shut up now._

"Well, sorry for not knowing."

"We get to decide on who's going to hide and seek with it. Rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and paper beats rock. Do you get it?" He gave a short nod. "Let's settle it this way. Whoever loses will seek, and the winner will hide. Best two out of three wins."

"How do you do it?" he inquired.

"Here you do this and . . ." she began to explain.

[ . . . ]

". . . that's what happened."

"You guys sound like an old marri—"

"I think I heard enough of those cliché romantic implications," she said, covering her ears to emphasize her statement.

"Riight," she rolled her eyes.

Daniella crawled out of the table and headed towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my—"

On cue, there stood the Earl in all his Sheep-ish glory, his arm raised mid-way to knock. Both of their eyes widened in shock, one in amusement and the other much to their horror.

"—_waaayyy!_" She luckily avoided his grasp and jumped to the open window, successfully landing on a nearby tree.

. . . or that's what she wanted to likely happen.

Failed to escape the reality, he wrapped his arm around her neck, nearly choking her in the process. She could have sworn she saw an evil glint in his eyes. "I found you~"

She is more focused on breathing fresh air than listen to his arrogant declarations. "C-Can't . . . b-breathe . . . need . . . air . . ."

"Ah, there it goes," he deadpanned, watching the white blob float away as if it is nothing more than an insect. Offended by the insult, her "soul" comically went back to her gaping mouth. "It came back." After regaining her composure, she elbowed him in the chest to no avail. "Since I win—"_No need to say it twice_, she thought bitterly. "—that means you'll do anything the winner wants, and I say that we will have a fencing match!"

Before Karen could say a word, she warned her. _"No."_

She giggled, walking passed the bickering officers. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be going on my way."

"W-What? Wait!" Karen ignored her pleads until she is nowhere to be seen. Daniella sulked in defeat. "Noooooo . . ."

No longer waiting for a response from the girl, he grabbed her hand and unceremoniously dragging her depressed figure. "If you have enough strength to mope around, you might as well do as I say."

This scene would have been romantic or adorable or any cute things that she can't remember at the moment if it weren't for the death grip he was giving her. Her hand must be pale and numb right about now. "I'm not going anywhere, you know . . ."

He turned back to look at her, the smirk never leaving his face. "Sure you wouldn't~"

"Have ye of little faith in me?"

"Yes, I do." Well, that was blunt.

She didn't say another word to him, instead murmuring curses in Japanese so he would not understand.

_"Despite being a pain in the . . . neck, he is mature and responsible when necessary."_

Mature? Hardly. Responsible? She has yet to find out.

_"I got to admit his cheerfulness kind of contagious. I find it adorable."_

She began to pity the poor girl. What kind of illusion is she living in?

_"You've gotta learn to get through their barriers one at a time, or it is natural for them to be like that. Not everyone is a . . . rich bastard, as you would call them."_

_'One at a time, huh?' _she smirked. She will find out soon enough, and she has the perfect plan to do just that.

* * *

><p><em>It <em>was _like any other day . . ._

* * *

><p><strong>(1)- Basashi: a Japanese term for raw sliced horsemeat, a K Project reference. (No cannibalism intended)<strong>

**(2)- I found this Kuro Halloween art at zerochan and saw Charles dressed up as Vincent (ho ho ho, not Vincent Phantomhive, but the sheep horns and stuff) in the game Catherine. Also, there is this pin merchandise of everyone in said horns, that's where it started~**

**(3)- You can't blame him for not knowing (you better apologize later, Daniella!). Rock-paper-scissors arrived in Europe in the 20th century and became famous in 1920. In Britain, someone wrote an article about it in 1924, and the rest is history. Thank Wikipedia.**

**The chapter title, Under Construction, means a friendly relationship is still in development, and she has yet to learn more about getting along with people like Charles. Hope it helps~! **


End file.
